Chapter 92: Chapter 91: King of the White Tower (Part 13)_1
“The competition will start soon, Mr. Fu, we should be heading off—Ah, your hand!”
By the evening of the next day, the female priestess who ca to escort Fu Qian to the arena had her mouth covered in shock once more.
Fu Qian followed her gaze and understood why she was surprised.
In just one night, the water-blue imprint had spread from his palm to his entire upper arm.
The peculiar scent had beco even stronger.
Not only that, but every place covered by the imprint felt as if countless tiny insects were nibbling away at the flesh.
Fortunately, the erosion was not deep, at least for now.
It wasn’t difficult to deal with this thing, it just required shedding the affected layer of skin.
For Fu Qian as he was now, it was nothing short of easy.
But he didn’t want to do that.
The reason was very simple—today was the day of the finals.
It would be his first attempt to take down Bai Jinting.
The thing would soon co in handy.
“You shouldn’t need to co and fetch in person, should you?”
Fu Qian gave the female priestess a glance.
“Today is the finals.”
The female priestess forced a smile.
“If you win the championship, I’ll get a bonus too, so I must show so sincerity!”
“So that’s the case; I thought you had placed a bet on .”
“There are indeed bets, but your odds are the lowest… I bet on everyone else, hoping to bring you so luck.”
“Not bad, learning about risk hedging at a young age, you have an unlimited future.”
…
As it turned out, Demigod Yibu truly detested Limb Attachnt.
Almost the mont he entered the White Tower, Fu Qian could feel this intense aversion.
After revealing the mark on his right hand, the hostility surged like a torrent.
Yet Fu Qian made no attempt to hide it, adopting a nonchalant deanor as he headed to the waiting room to rest.
After two days of fierce battles, only a handful of contestants remained; just one more opponent to take down, and he would enter the final round.
This ti, no new underhanded tactics erged, and Fu Qian’s number soon appeared on the screen overhead.
Standing on the once again rejuvenated field, Fu Qian couldn’t help but admire the advantages of wealth.
And the contestant opposite him in the ring surprised him for a brief second.
Dark ebony armor, a giant sword and shield, a helt with two horns.
The opponent in the semi-final was actually that Black Knight from the sa preparation room!
It had to be said, having made it this far, he must have so skill.
His towering figure was extraordinary, and that heavy armor he wore was not sothing an ordinary person could handle.
Fu Qian had seen one of his battles, and it was clear that his combat experience was extrely rich and his style steady and unarrogant.
He wielded a giant sword with ferocity, eventually flattening his opponent by ten centiters.
If there was a weakness, it might be that his realm was too low.
Based on the intensity of the aura he displayed, at most he was at the Seventh Phase, making it hard to imagine how he could wield such a huge shield and sword in that manner.
That armor must be no ordinary item.
His courage was admirable too.
Over the past two days, his own notoriety had grown fierce; one would think ordinary opponents, seeing him, might have already despaired. For this knight to stand earnestly in the arena was no small achievent.
Once the referee announced the start, the Black Knight began with a silent salute with his sword, then positioned his dark, heavy shield in front of him.
This stance suggested he was wary of Fu Qian’s killing power, aiming to play defensively and counterattack.
It seed reasonable at first glance, but one shouldn’t be so narrow-minded as to label an opponent a strength-based player just because they possess great power.
I’ve always been leaning toward a technique-oriented approach.
Confronted with a shell defense, Fu Qian charged forward, dodging an upward slash and then placed his palm on the shield.
That’s right, he pressed it down.
Fu Qian had no intention of blasting both the shield and man to smithereens, instead he gently pressed his hand against it.
…
The Black Knight clearly hadn’t expected Fu Qian to act like that and couldn’t help but be a little stunned.
However, being an experienced warrior, he quickly pulled himself back from his distraction.
His first reaction was to retract his shield, swinging out with his sword.
But once again he missed— the shield was so exaggeratedly large that Fu Qian was actually hiding behind it, following the shield forward, creating a blind spot for the attack.
The shield had beco his cover.
…
The Black Knight, cool in the face of danger, pushed the shield out again, but was surprised to find that Fu Qian had disappeared.
The next mont, a surging force ca from behind him.
The Black Knight stumbled nearly ten ters before stabilizing his form, spewing a mist of blood onto his chest, the dark iron armor stained even more ghastly.
Fu Qian, who had taken cover behind the shield to get behind him, had just kicked him in the back.
Clang!
Realizing the shield was only working against him, the warrior decisively took it off and threw it aside.
From the sound of it hitting the ground, it was deceptively heavy.
And the now free left hand slowly touched the broad hilt, releasing a murderous intent several tis more intense than before.
The sound of armor clashing echoed, the Black Knight holding his warhamr, choosing to go on the offensive.
The door-sized warhamr ca slashing down hard at Fu Qian.
That’s more like it!
A warhamr to the face is a man’s true romance.
Facing the Black Knight’s full form, Fu Qian also raised his right hand.
The next mont, countless tentacles burst from his right arm, intertwining into a massive, exotic arm, and hamred fiercely onto the Black Knight’s body.
Almost instantly, the latter flew backward like a baseball, together with his sword, crashing on the edge of the arena.
The helt fell aside, revealing half a face scorched like a corpse.
This is!
Amidst the audience’s screams, Demigod Yibu stood up abruptly, his face ashen.
At this mont, having defeated his opponent, Fu Qian stepped into the finals, yet he didn’t stay to relish the cheers from the crowd and instead left the arena imdiately.
“Cong… congratulations!”
When Fu Qian returned to the preparation room, the Female Priestess, with a trembling voice, stepped forward to celebrate.
Scared by the too brutal scene?
Hardly. The fight with the Crocodile Monster yesterday was far bloodier than this.
Fu Qian noticed that she was staring intently at his right hand.
That explained it.
For quite a few of the female comrades, that last strike was a bit R-rated.
But it also depends on who, as there were clearly female shouts from the audience earlier, excited to the point of nearly fainting.
“Don’t be nervous, it’ll be over in a mont!”
Fu Qian patted the Female Priestess on the shoulder to comfort her, and conveniently chopped her on the neck.
How could it be so fast?
At this ti, the second match had already begun, but Yibu in the stands was frowning deeply.
Fu Qian’s performance just now was baffling.
He thought they had only initially co into contact last night, but it turned out…
This was clearly a case of initial integration!
Could it be they had an understanding all along?
These reckless fools, not considering the consequences at all!
Fortunately, the level of integration seed not too high, and he must remain vigilant going forward.
Thinking this, Yibu glanced towards Fu Qian’s preparation room.
The next mont his pupils shrank suddenly.
In the resting room, Fu Qian’s figure was no longer there.
User Comments
0 comments from readers